


Find My Way Blind

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Fellatio, Former Sex Slave, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 15:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19298470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: Sherlock Holmes knew that his new flatmate was a former slave, he just wasn’t sure what kind.  There were many slaves… some cleaned house, some raised children.  Others fought in wars for their masters.  It was obvious that John Watson had been some sort of slave, but he had earned his freedom.





	Find My Way Blind

**Author's Note:**

> I found the beginning of this fic in my folder of unfinished fics (makes you wonder what else is in there, huh?). I opened it up and dusted it off. I started this before season 3. The file says March 2013! I have no plans to continue this, considering how season 3 and 4 turned out.

Sherlock Holmes knew that his new flatmate was a former slave, he just wasn’t sure what kind. There were many slaves… some cleaned house, some raised children. Others fought in wars for their masters. It was obvious that John Watson had been some sort of slave, but he had earned his freedom.

Sherlock had always been a freeborn. As a child he had been raised by house slaves his parents had hired to do the menial tasks like cook, clean and raise the children. One of his more traumatic childhood memories had been when his nanny had paid off her debt and left the household. No matter how it was explained to the young Sherlock that this was the way of the world and that his nanny would be very happy now that she could have a home and family of her own, Sherlock felt abandoned and betrayed. When the next nanny was bought Sherlock refused to show any sort of affection, knowing that nanny too would soon buy her freedom and leave.

There was always a celebration in the Holmes manor when one of their indentured servants was able to pay back their debts and be granted freedom. Sherlock wondered what John’s celebration had been like.

“What?” John asked as he sat across from Sherlock, eating Chinese.

“You weren’t freeborn.”

John stared down at his fried rice and nodded. “You’re right… my mother had me while she was still a slave.”

“Your skill wasn’t blood sports.”

John set down his chopsticks and stared at the man he had only met the day before. “What do you want to know about me?”

“I mean… you were in the military but you held rank… so you were already a freedman. What was your… skill? I don’t believe it was blood sports. You’re a crack shot but a gladiator has more scars.”

“I was a bed slave.” John picked up his chopsticks again and attacked his lemon chicken with gusto. 

Sherlock stared… he couldn’t help it. Bed slaves were the one slave that no one talked about. They were the dirty little secret of the English Empire. Many men and women of means would keep one to satisfy themselves. They were considered an indulgence… a plaything. Sherlock’s father had kept a female bed slave named Jasmine that he often took to bed instead of Sherlock’s mother. 

John swallowed his mouthful of food and took a sip of his green tea. “You alright?”

“Yes… I’m just… I wasn’t expecting that.”

John shrugged and used his chopsticks to rearrange the food on his plate. “I served three masters… all male…”

“Odd.”

“How is it odd?” John asked, raising an eyebrow at his partner of the past six months.

“You only take women to bed with you.” Sherlock replied, thinking of John’s past three bed partners.

John made a face and stole one of Sherlock’s dumplings, stuffing it into his mouth with mirthful glee and a waggle of his eyebrows.

Sherlock stared down at where his dumpling had been, the space left vacant with only a puddle of soy sauce to show where it had been. “You stole my dumpling.”

The former soldier dropped a spring roll onto Sherlock’s plate and swallowed what was in his mouth. “I bed whomever I want. I am free to choose. That’s the point. I spent most of my life with a master telling me who to sleep with. Now I can choose. Woman… Man… Both at the same time…”

Sherlock absently picked up the spring roll and sucked the sauce from it, his eyes on John.

“What is your preference?” John whispered.

Sherlock pulled the roll from his mouth, licking the red sauce from his lips. “I have none.”

John licked his lips, his eyes on Sherlock’s lips. “None at all?”

“None.” Sherlock echoed as he took a bite of the spring roll. Swallowing he gave John a careless smile. “But I might be open to learning… If the right spring roll came along.”

John smiled.

^.~

It was during their meeting with Moriarty that Sherlock found himself on his knees before a scantily clad John wearing only a Semtex vest. His fingers blindly groped at the closures that held the explosive on John while he was faced with John’s naked body and half erection two inches from his face. With a final tug he tossed the explosive away and caught his flatmate before he fell to the ground. Quickly he took off his jacket and handed it to John before he paced back and forth before him like an agitated tiger. “What was that?” 

“I was caught with my pants down.” John answered as he pulled on the jacket. “It won’t happen again, Sherlock.”

By the time Moriarty returned and left again Sherlock was beside himself with anger. 

“I’m alright.” John stated from where he stood, holding Sherlock’s jacket closed over his body. 

“Did he touch you? Hurt you?” Sherlock asked needlessly. He already knew the answer, having deduced it before he had offered John his jacket. Still… He had to be sure.

“I’m fine, Sherlock. He didn’t touch me.” John caught Sherlock mid-pace and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist, resting his head on the detective’s shoulder. 

Sherlock hesitantly wrapped his arms around John’s back to reciprocate the hug. “Are you cold?”

“A little. But you’re warm.” John’s hand drifted down until it rested on Sherlock’s hip. The other hand rested on the top of Sherlock’s backside. “You’re warm.”

“You said that.” Sherlock whispered back. Against his thigh he could feel John’s erection. Just knowing John was there made him feel giddy and excited. His hands ached to reach under the jacket and touch warm skin, but he refrained. The hug was to keep naked John warm, not to give in to base desires.

In the distance was the sound of sirens. Sherlock reached down to pull down the back hem of the jacket, making sure it covered John’s ass. In the process his fingers grazed the soft skin where buttocks met thighs. 

John gave a soft grunt and shamelessly rubbed his erection against Sherlock’s thigh before pulling away to readjust the jacket. 

The flurry of Scotland Yard descended on them and soon enough they were bundled off in a cab back to Baker Street, John wrapped in a blanket to protect his modesty. Upon entering the flat the blanket was dropped to the floor and John took off the jacket, holding it out to Sherlock as he stood in the middle of the living room in nothing but his skin. “Thank you for use of this.”

“You’re welcome.” Sherlock answered, trying desperately not to look at his flatmate’s naked body and failing miserably. 

“Goodnight.” John smiled and him and went upstairs to his own room, leaving Sherlock alone and painfully erect.

^.~

In the summer Sherlock went without clothing, opting instead of a bed sheet draped around his body. John made no comment on his bed sheet but the former soldier did look… How could he not? And when Sherlock felt particularly naughty he arranged himself on the couch with only a small corner of the sheet to tastefully cover his genitals, watching John go about his day. Occasionally he “accidentally” pulled the corner of sheet away and met John’s eyes defiantly. 

On one such occasion John sat down beside him on the couch, pretending to watch telly with Sherlock’s legs placed in his lap. John’s fingers drew idle patterns across Sherlock’s skin, causing an erection. But John kept his touch between mid-thigh to toes. After the program ended John turned his attention to Sherlock. “Our client will be here soon.”

Sherlock frowned and pulled his sheet back over himself.

“Don’t be like that.” John smiled and leaned down to kiss where the sheet covered Sherlock’s genitals. And with that one brief touch he got up. 

Later that day they both found themselves at Buckingham Palace. 

“You still aren’t wearing any pants?”

“No.” 

The giggles were immediate.

^.~

Irene smirked and unzipped Sherlock’s trousers, keeping her eyes on his as she opened his clothing. 

Sherlock started to tremble and then fidget. When her lips touched his shaft he nearly jumped out of the chair. Desperately he looked around the flat, his eyes landing on John.

John sighed. Crossing to the chair he pushed the other former bed slave aside. “Move.”

“I can satisfy him in ways…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… look at him! He’s freaking out!” John pushed Irene aside and settled between Sherlock’s knees. Lightly he patted Sherlock’s thigh until the other man looked him in the eye. Keeping eye contact John leaned down to lightly lip at the glans. 

Sherlock kept eye contact, his eyes focusing on John, finding comfort in the other man’s presence. With a nod he leaned back, still watching as the other man swallowed his penis. John felt good… felt right… his mouth was warm and moist. Instantly he was harder than he had ever been and he shifted so John could have more room to work. The former bed slave had talent. It was regretful that Sherlock had yet to fully experience the other man’s gifts… but he would take what he could get. If John wanted he would roll over and allow the former bed slave full access to his body. It didn’t matter that he had never taken anyone to bed. All John had to do was ask… Sherlock’s eyes focused on John’s lips and the way his penis was consumed by them. It made something in his groin stir. In that moment he wanted to be anything but a virgin. In that moment he would gladly be a bed slave if he could have John claim him. “John…”

John pulled back and kept his eyes on his flatmate. “Sherlock?”

“I want…”

“What do you want?”

Sherlock moaned and squirmed out of the chair, facing it he rested his body on the seat and pushed down his trousers. “Please?”

“Irene is here…”

“I don’t care!” Sherlock snarled as he pushed down his pants, leaving his ass exposed. 

John lightly kissed Sherlock’s ass cheek before pulling back up the pants. “I care.” His hand wrapped around Sherlock’s erection and he began to wank the other man. “She can’t watch.” 

Sherlock moaned as his body fucked John’s fist, pushing back against the other man. “Please, John… please…”

John rearranged them so he was covering most of Sherlock’s back, arm blocking Irene’s greedy view of John fisting Sherlock’s cock. “I’ve got you… use my hand.”

“I want more… I want…” Sherlock moaned pressing back against John’s warmth. “Please, John.”

John’s other hand reached down to cradle Sherlock’s bullocks. “That’s it…”

With an indignant cry Sherlock buried his face into the seat of the chair. “Please fuck me…” 

John’s fingers slipped into the crevice of Sherlock’s ass and teased the tight sphincter.

It was too much and the detective gave a choked sob as his fingers gripped the cushion, feeling pulse upon pulse caught in John’s cupped hand. Gasping for air, he rubbed his cheek against the chair seat. Chair… Seat… Sitting up suddenly he looked back at Irene Adler who sat in John’s chair, staring at him. “Seats! Those numbers are seat numbers.” Quickly he got up and pulled up his trousers before going to the computer to confirm his theory.

“You made him beg four times…” Irene sounded more than a little awed. 

“It’s a gift.” John smirked and got up from the floor, careful not to drip the contents of his hand. And as he entered the kitchen his hand might have been raised to his mouth a moment before it was cleaned in the sink.

And with the whirlwind of the case it seemed for a time they forgot what happened that evening.

^.~

Sherlock lay in only his pajama bottoms on the sofa when John returned from work one evening. 

“Isn’t it a little chilly for that?” John remarked as he passed on his way to the kitchen to make himself tea.

“It’s for a case.”

“Of course it is…” John answered as he set the kettle to boil. “What sort of case?”

“Will you treat me as a bed slave?” Sherlock was pleased to note that John managed to catch the mug before it shattered with only a brief sound of clattering ceramic on the counter.

“What?” John’s voice came from the kitchen.

“I don’t know what it’s like to be a bed slave. I have very little experience with that form of slavery. I would like to learn.” Sherlock stated to the ceiling.

John emerged from the kitchen. “Sherlock…”

“It’s for a case.” Sherlock cut him off before he could protest.

“You want to be treated as a bed slave? To what point?”

“Pardon?”

“How far will you let it go? You are aware at least theoretically what a bed slave does. Can you go that far?”

“If I must.” Sherlock answered. “Teach me, John.”

John crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Sherlock for a long time. Finally he shrugged. “Master. I am master.”

“Master.” Sherlock echoed the title. “What would you have me do for you, master?”

John sat on his chair and stared at the consulting detective as if trying to assess him. “Sometimes master would have you do nothing… It was only when master wished to take pleasure that you were needed.”

Sherlock swallowed hard and arched his back a bit, staring at John. Of course John had to know that he was fully erect once the conversation started. His body was ready for anything John wanted. There wasn’t really a case, of course not… But he was so bored. “What would you have me do, master?”

John casually crossed his legs and stared back at the consulting detective. “A bed slave’s domain is the bedroom. You should be naked and waiting for me on the bed.”

His legs felt heavy as he got to his feet. “As you wish, master.” Quickly he made his way to his bedroom and shut the door. Shedding his pajamas he lounged upon the bed, unsure how to position himself in the most pleasing position. What would John want to see? What would make John want to fuck him? In the end he decided that simplicity was best and he lay atop the duvet, hands folded on his chest. Time seemed to stand still. A glance at the clock showed him that only five minutes had passed. What was taking John so long? Already his erection was beginning to wane. After fifteen minutes he rolled over onto his side and pulled his knees to his chest, staring at the clock… Watching each passing minute.

Finally the door opened after thirty one minutes. John stepped into the room, biting his lips. 

“What took you so long?” Sherlock demanded as he uncurled and sat up to stare at John.

“I told you… Often bed slaves are left waiting on their masters. I was drinking my tea.” John sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the naked consulting detective. “I don’t want to be your master.”

Sherlock felt something die inside of him. There had been something rising within him… Hope, need. Hunger. And with John’s words they came crashing down upon him. The back of his throat seized up and he found the corners of his eyes sting as his vision blurred. It took him several moments to realize he was about to cry. Horrified at the idea of John seeing, he turned away and hastily climbed out of bed. Trembling fingers found his robe and he pulled it on.

“Sherlock?” John queried from the bed.

Sherlock made his escape and locked himself in the bathroom. At least with the water running in the shower he could let his emotions overwhelm him without John hearing him. An hour later Sherlock emerged. A quick glance at the open door to his bedroom showed that John was not in there. So he locked himself within for two days, only leaving when he needed to pee. 

John made some attempt to get him to open the door, knocking and calling through the door. But Sherlock ignored him. His fragile heart wasn’t ready to encounter the former bed slave who rejected him. More than once he nearly tripped over trays of cold tea and stale toast on his way to the bathroom. The only time he got any peace was when John returned to work.

Five days later John was able to enter the flat without Sherlock retreating to his room. They didn’t speak of what happened and Sherlock made sure to keep all of his clothes on.

^.~

Sherlock closed his eyes and tried desperately to forget what he had seen. The unnatural monstrosity that shouldn’t exist… The hound. And yet as his heart raced his trousers tightened. It was just as distracting as the obvious hallucination. Absently he reached down to rub the heel of his hand against his erection, desperately trying to will it away. The counterpoint of panic and need weren’t helping his frame of mind. 

“What did you see out there?” John asked for the umpteenth time. 

“What do you care?” Sherlock snarled back, his patience gone.

“Why would I care? Maybe because I’m your friend?”

Yeah… Right. A friend that would possessively suck your cock when a pretty sex slave gave you attention and yet reject you when you offered yourself to him? “I don’t have any friends!” Sherlock spit out.

John made a face and then stood up. “I wonder why…” And with that he was gone. 

Speaking of cocks, Sherlock’s was about to burst. Getting up, he managed to make his way to the stairs to his room he noticed someone. Taking out his phone he took a picture before climbing the stairs. At the top of the stairs he sent his text and picture to John. Let the former bed slave deal with the witness… Sherlock desperately needed relief. Within two minutes he was naked in the room, frantically trying to climax. But it seemed to evade him. An hour later he was rolling on the bed, his cock chafed and swollen from the effort. He was only vaguely aware of the sound of key in the door and the light flicking on. Finally he became aware that he wasn’t alone and he stared up at John. 

“What the hell are you doing?” John demanded.

Sherlock swallowed hard, pulling his hand away from his abused genitals. “I can’t… Finish. It hurts…”

With a weary sigh John crawled onto the bed, placing a hand on Sherlock’s thigh to move it aside and assess the damage. “Chafing. How long have you been at it?”

“How long ago did you get my text? I sent it and went up here.”

John gave another sigh. “Oh, Sherlock…” And with that he leaned down to swallow Sherlock’s cock, making sure to use plenty of saliva.

“John…” Sherlock gasped, knotting his fingers in John’s hair and helplessly moving his hips. “I need to… Need to…” But his words failed him and he was reduced to inarticulate grunts, his legs trying desperately to pull John closer. And all at once in one glorious moment he felt his balls tighten and expel deep down John’s throat pulse upon pulse. It took his several minutes to come down from his high and loosen his legs from where they were clamped about John’s head. Slowly he relaxed.

John pulled away and straightened his clothing. 

“Stay…” Sherlock commanded from where he lay, completely limp.

“Oh? Now we’re talking?”

“I meant what I said before… I don’t have friends… I just have one. You.” Sherlock rubbed his face with the back of his hand. “Something happened out there… I don’t know what I saw, but it wasn’t a hound.”

“You were doing so well with an apology…” John made a step for the door.

“No. Stay… I’ll… I’ll sleep a little if you stay. Tomorrow we’ll go back to our client. Just stay with me?”

“Not going to lock yourself in the bathroom again?” John asked as he toed off his shoes and sat down on the bed.

Sherlock curled up on his side of the bed, closing his eyes. He could live with John only having sex with him when he absolutely had to… Really he could. 

John spread the duvet over them both and reached out to flick off the bedside light. “Night Sherlock.”

“Goodnight John.”

^.~

“I saw it… I know I saw it.” John stated, pacing back and forth in agitation. “You’re saying it was a chemical? A drug?”

“Yes, but I can’t find it!” Sherlock growled and tossed his sample away. “Why can’t I find it?” 

John paused in his pacing and made a face. 

“What am I missing?” Sherlock moaned.

John eyed the detective. “Sherlock…”

“I need my mind palace.”

“Sherlock… There seems to be a side effect…”

“Yes, yes… Arousal. I know that already.” Sherlock answered, annoyed that his mind palace was being delayed. “Thus my affliction last night when you found me.” 

“Sherlock…”

“Why don’t you go find some relief?” Sherlock suggested. The words hurt to say. But that’s what John should do, right? He didn’t want Sherlock so he should go find someone to help him. Knowing John’s preference in women… Someone tall and brunette.

“From what I understand that might be very difficult without help.” John answered.

“Then go find help.” Sherlock retorted.

“In here?” John raised an eyebrow at him as he folded his arms. 

“We’ll be done soon.” Sherlock snorted. “If you let me work.”

And with that John left the room.

^.~

Two hours later they left Lestrade and his local law enforcement to clean up as they returned to the inn. Upon entering the room Sherlock found himself pinned to the door by John who had a predatory gleam in his eyes. “John?”

John released his hold on Sherlock’s shoulders and immediately began to undress until he was entirely naked. “I need you to fuck me.” The former sex slave’s voice was low and dangerous, causing Sherlock to shiver.

“But…”

John’s hands made short work of Sherlock’s clothes until they were a small pile next to his own. “I have been hot and bothered since this afternoon when you dosed me at the lab. I need some relief… Now!”

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The exposure to the gas had been brief and he could feel his own body’s reaction to the side effects. “We can find you someone… Someone to…”

“No!” John interrupted him. “You are going to lay down on that bed and I am going to shag you silly.

“John…” Sherlock protested as he found himself pushed backwards towards the bed. Tripping over the edge he fell on his back and found John climbing on top of him. “You don’t want this… With me.”

“You don’t know that.” John replied as he reached into the bedside table for a vial of something.

“I do… You told me… You said you couldn’t be my master.”

John paused, staring down at the consulting detective. “I can’t be your master. Because I’m not anyone’s master.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Sherlock demanded. 

“Because I want you.” John answered. An oily hand slathered Sherlock’s cock and John straddled and sat, easily taking Sherlock into his body. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this. But you feel so good.” Rocking his hips, he gave an internal squeeze. 

Sherlock cried out at the sudden sensation of being encased by John’s body heat. His hands gripped John’s knees as the other man rode him hard. Too soon his body fell over the edge and he climaxed. It wasn’t really his fault that his lack of experience came with a lack of stamina.

John grabbed Sherlock’s right hand and placed it on his cock, urging the detective to stroke him to his own completion. It only took a few tugs before John collapsed, panting for breath. The former soldier lounged atop the detective. “That was…”

“Quick.” Sherlock pouted.

“I was going to say it was good.” John answered.

“But it was quick.” Sherlock insisted. “If we had more practice I would have had some stamina.”

“We all have to start somewhere.”

“Are you suggesting that this is a start?” Sherlock asked.

John bit his lips and rolled off the brunette. “If that is what you want…”

“If that is what I want? I’ve practically thrown myself at you and all I got was some fellatio. Of course I want more… With you.”

“If that is what you want.” John repeated before lightly kissing Sherlock’s lips.

No one had ever kissed Sherlock before. It felt good. Sherlock reciprocated with enthusiasm. “Stay with me?”

“Always.” John replied.

They snuggled together that night, unaware of what the future had in store to test their commitment. But for that night it was enough of a promise to give them hope.

\--FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a song by Five for Fighting called "Jainy." I think the song is about a man in love with a prostitute.


End file.
